


Some Like It Hot

by jessebee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Eating, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Food, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Spice, Teasing, possibly questionable use of the Force, really it is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10072049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessebee/pseuds/jessebee
Summary: Han's plans for dinner take a sharp left turn, and Luke has an encounter of the unexpected kind.





	

 

 

 

“So, what kind of eatery is this, again?” Luke asked as he preceded Han down the _Falcon's_ ramp. The sun was low now and a windy blast of evening heat stirred his hair, tinged with the smells of overly hot metals and old buildings slowly powdering into dust.

It'd been a good move, he decided, to change his customary blacks for something better suited to Aruoa's climate, even if it did feel a bit time-travelish. In the year and a half or so since the battle at Endor, Luke had worn Jedi-styled clothing nearly all the time, suiting what he had become and the image that the budding New Republic needed him to project, but something about this trip had indicated a change.

So he had. An easy-fitting tunic and pants in the pale, sandy-blue color that many of the natives favored, comfortable and similar to the clothes he'd worn growing up. Standard fare on many desert worlds – covering enough to protect from the sun, but loose enough to take advantage of any breeze.

“Kid, you're gonna love this.” Han had changed as well, which had to be some kind of miracle. He'd never give up his vest, but under it he wore a loose, half-sleeved shirt in soft brown, a color that looked alarmingly good on him. He also wore the kind of crooked smile and air of barely-contained mayhem that Luke had long ago learned to keep an eye on. To make sure he didn't get left out of anything, of course.

Luke didn't quite purse his mouth as Han secured the ship. Han caught the expression anyway. “Oh, come on now,” he said, stopping in the freighter's shadow. “Don't you trust me?”

“Yes?”

“Lu-uke – ”

“With my life, always.” Luke stepped close and laid one hand on Han's arm. The brown fabric felt silky to his touch. “With my heart? Forever. With my stomach?” He lifted his free hand to where Han could see it and rocked it side to side, and dodged the lazy mock-punch Han drifted past his jaw.

“You,” Han declared, scowling, “are a pure nuisance and I got no idea why I'm still puttin' up with you.”

Luke smiled at him. With teeth. “Because you love me,” he said soft and smug, and hoped he'd never lose the little zing that always ran through his middle at the fact that he could say those words now, to Han.

Han's eyes kindled. He put his own hand over Luke's and used it to reel him in for a kiss. “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I do.” Another kiss, more thorough than the first. “You sure you wanna eat? Food, I mean?”

Damn the man. Luke wrestled back his instant, unfailing response to that look in those eyes. “Han, I love you, but I'm _starving_ and you promised me some actual real food tonight, from something other than a processor. Show me this place you've found.”

Han grinned at him, a weirdly shy, happy little smile that Luke had never seen until after they'd become lovers, and tapped him on the nose. “C'mon, then.”

 

*

 

The eatery was the kind of place for which the expression “hole-in-the-wall” had surely been invented. Tucked into a back alley off the back alley behind a fueling station, you couldn't possibly find it, Luke figured, unless you knew it was there. So it made perfect sense that Han had found it, because Han was a medaled champion at that sort of thing.

It turned out to be bigger than the doorway threatened, though, as most of it was underground. Shades of a Mos Eisley dive rippled up Luke's spine as they found seats at a scarred but clean table with a good view of the door, but he felt no warnings, nothing amiss when he stretched out through the Force.

Han, as was usual these days, picked up on his mood. “What's up?”

Luke shook his head. “Just – it's a bit like Tatooine, underground.” Even the smells seemed something half-familiar, and gods only knew if that was a good thing or not.

“That's most desert planets I've seen.”

“Hmm.” Not that Aruoa was truly desert, or not by Tatooine standards anyway.

His eyes adjusted now to the dim, Luke took a better look around. The place had to be a local favorite, despite the terrible location: the eating room was more full than the bar, and the patrons looked mostly to be the city's regular working folk rather than cantina habitués. “How'd you find this?” Luke said, looking back at Han, and nearly caught his breath.

The color that had been good on Han in the sunlight was devastating in this half-gloom, lit by the gentle glow of the wall sconces and the table's center light. The rich brown warmed the normally tawny tones of his skin even further, and gave his mostly-gray eyes all the colors of a forest world, a hundred different golds and greens, mysterious and beckoning –

“Guy I picked up that extra k-coupling from,” Han said, and Luke blinked and dragged himself back out of the woods. “I asked him where he'd go when he wants to eat the good local, not the pricey tourist.” The crooked grin reappeared, in dangerous conjunction with the eyebrows. “He asked me how spicy I liked my food.”

Luke laughed, delighted.

It had long been a friendly contest between them. Being Corellian, Han could – and routinely did – drink everything from the finest high-quality distillates to things that'd strip the hair off a bantha at fifty paces. “Quirk of the metabolism, kid,” Han had said that first time, after he'd offered Luke a sip of something that quite possibly would have put him in a coma if he'd swallowed any more. “Hot and fast, good recovery time. Extends to other things too,” and his voice had lowered right into the danger zone. “Wanna try?”

Groaning and coughing at the same time was hazardous, Luke had discovered. “Tell me you didn't try that line on the princess?” he wheezed after he'd grappled for a minute with the concept of breathing, because Han couldn't be _seriously_ _asking_ _him_ , right?

Han had snorted. “Neither of you got any taste,” he'd muttered, or Luke thought he did, but then Luke's comlink had shrilled and something somewhere too close to them went BOOM and the moment had been lost.

But some time later, after they'd all survived that particular crisis more or less intact, Luke had accidentally found his own hidden talent when Han sat down across the mess table from him and watched Luke adding some spice to his meal. “Holy krif, kid, you're gonna _eat_ that?”

Luke had looked up to find Han staring at him with eyes almost wide enough to make him Admiral Akbar's cousin. “Uhm, _yeah_ , of course. Food here is on the bland side – ” as if that wasn't the understatement of the standard week, “ – but we're an army on the run. I don't want to complain, so I'm just adding some zip. Why? Want some?”

Han couldn't possibly get his eyes any wider, but he tried. “Only if I wanna _die_ , and there's easier ways to go, because half the amount of _halva_ you just dumped on there'd melt hyperdrive shielding. You _look_ human, but you can't possibly have any taste buds if you eat like _that_.”

Luke stopped with his fork in the air, because really? Okay, his aunt had always said he liked things spicy and he'd routinely eaten stuff hotter than his friends had, but – Oh, this was far too good to pass up. He tilted his head and let the smile start. “Oh, come on, it's not that hot. You're sure you don't want any?” he said, making as if to push his plate across. The familiar, warm smell scent of the _halva_ rose from it. “Because I'll be happy to share – ”

“Get _away_ from me with that,” Han said, grinning, but still leaning back.

So the game had begun. Luke started watching out for interesting spirits to sneak onto base, wherever the Rebel Alliance wound up being that month, and Han had made it something of a personal mission to discover new and interesting tastes for Luke to try.

And not too long after, Luke had discovered that yes, in fact, Han _had_ been quite seriously asking him, and  that had made Luke's life much more pleasurable. For a while. Until Hoth.

But apparently this place was Han's latest gambit. “And this is what your local recommended?” Luke said, still smiling.

“Yeah.” Han sat back, looking pleased with himself. “Guy says the owners – or maybe it's just the cook – is from another sand-pit world, likes to use their preserving spices on his special dishes as well as making the traditional local chow.”

And the local “chow” he'd had so far wasn't hot at all, not by Luke's own standards, anyway, and from where he was sitting the bar looked pretty well stocked. So – something for them both. “Let's see what's on the menu, then,” Luke said, tapping the table to bring it up.

After consulting both the given listings and the droid server and assuring it that yes, when Luke said spicy he truly did mean exactly that, and a pleasingly short wait, they were settled with two plates of tiny rolled appetizer (one hot, one not) and two mugs of the local versions of beer. Luke found his pleasantly light, and the one Han had ordered put a pleased expression on his long face. “Somebody knows what they're doing,” he said, smiling. “Not up to Corellian standards, of course – ”

Luke rolled his eyes and mimed falling asleep.

“ – but pretty nice all the same.”

Han popped a roll in his mouth and chewed, looked pleased again and had another one before washing them both down with another swig of beer. Luke tried one of his hotter ones, chewing cautiously and then with more enthusiasm as the flavors began to build on his palate. Tasty. Very tasty, in fact; new and interesting, and yet – not new, there was something there, something –

“You're makin' that face,” Han said, eyeing him.

“Am not,” Luke mumbled absently, eating another roll.

“Are to.”

“No, we left him with Leia.”

Han's eye-roll was truly dramatic, and Luke swallowed and grinned. “Well, then, don't give me an opening like that.”

“Luke.”

“All right, what face?”

“Y'know, _that_ face,” Han said, one hand waving at him.

“ _That_ face?”

“The one that says you're thinkin' way too hard.”

“It's just – this tastes familiar, a bit. Something in this that I've had before, somewhere.”

Han cocked an eyebrow at him. “It's called 'trade,' kid; stuff gets shipped around from system to system – ”

Now Luke really did make a face at him, and Han grinned and leaned back. “Really, Luke, it's just something you've eaten before somewhere, that's all.”

“No, not like that.” Luke had another bite, and another, trying to pin it down. Besides, he hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said he was hungry. “It's, I don't know, it's – _older_ than that.”

Han shrugged. “So, maybe the cook's from Tatooine.”

“ _Yes_.” Luke looked at him sharply. “That's it. This tastes a lot like _ahrisa_.”

“Ah-what?”

“ _Ahrisa_. It's a – balled, spicy – ” Luke floundered. “I was never much of a cook, I don't know what's in it, but I've never had it anywhere except – ” _Home_. He swallowed. “Except on Tatooine.”

“There it is, then.” Han saluted with his beer before he took another drink.

Luke stared at him, past him, flooded with a sudden wash of memories – this taste, the smell of hot, bone-dry air, the sting of doubled sunlight and the tiny pricks of gritty, windblown sand. Joy and love, friendship, and death and sorrow. A rash and furious oath never to return, broken without hesitation for the man seated across from him.

Intersections here: past, present, future. A change in direction, and – Luke had been part of it?

“Luke.”

Luke blinked.

“Okay, now you really do have that look on your face.” Han was leaning across the table toward him, all humor fled. “What's up?”

“Nothing.”

Han's eyebrows said otherwise.

“Okay, nothing bad, just a – a feeling. I think I need to talk to the cook.” Luke twisted around and looked toward the front, at the bar. He'd ask the bartender, as bartenders knew everything except when they didn't know anything.

“Need backup?”

There and ready, no questions asked. Han didn't sneer much about “mystical energy fields” these days. Luke smiled at him. “I don't think so. How about you make sure nobody else gets our dinners,” he said, getting to his feet. “And don't eat mine, either.”

Han snorted and waved him off. “No chance of that.”

Luke picked his way up toward the bar, still sparsely populated although there were more beings there than before. Most of them more humanoid than not, interestingly, including the one behind the long bar. Female, he thought, looking at her back, as he leaned against the worn but clean, polished surface. “Excuse me, but I'd like to – ”

She turned, and the rest of his words disappeared.

Dark-haired and sloe-eyed and she'd changed over the years, but Luke still knew her immediately.

And she knew him. She stopped dead, her mouth dropping open and eyes going wide, and just stared at him, until – “Luke?”

A piece of his past, out of nowhere, and the rest of the bits fell into place. Luke smiled. “Hello, Camie.”

“Luke. Oh my _gods_. Luke!” In the next moments she was around the bar and throwing her arms around him. “Holy hells, it _is_ you! We thought you were _dead_!”

It felt strange, hugging her. Familiar, but strange. “Not yet.”

 

*

 

“We all figured it was Sandpeople at first, and that was the official story.” Camie took a drink of beer and looked at Luke from the chair she'd pulled up, halfway between him and Han. “'Till we realized it'd happened in broad daylight. And suddenly there were Imps all over; not like usual, I mean _all_ _over_ , they showed up in Anchorhead. _Anchorhead_. Kept saying they were looking for a couple of droids.”

Luke nodded. He'd have to play this carefully. Han had caught his earlier signal and had said next to nothing, letting Luke do the talking. Luke thought he'd have to tell Leia about that. “My uncle'd bought two droids from the Jawas the day before. One of them ran away that night, so I took the other one and went looking for it in the morning. So I was clear out by the Jundland Wastes when they got to the farm.” He had a sip of his own beer, his throat gone a little dry.

“I came back, found out what'd happened, and left. Took the droids and headed out to Mos Eisley, arranged to get us off-planet.” He caught Han's eyes for a moment and smiled faintly, before he looked back at Camie. “I never did make the Academy, but I did end up with the Rebellion.”

“Got to be a flyboy after all, huh? That's all you ever talked about, you and Biggs and Deak, flying and getting off-planet.” Camie tilted her head. “We heard, about a year after you vanished and all, that Biggs was – gone. I know you two were close.”

In five years, the sting had faded some, but not much. Luke just nodded.

“Biggs' people bought your place, after,” she went on, and that was real sympathy Luke was feeling from her. Camie had never been a bad sort at heart, although it hadn't been easy to tell that, back then.

“Not surprising,” Luke said. “Biggs' dad always would buy anything not bolted down that he thought he could make a credit off of. They can have it; I never was a farmer, anyway.” Time to shift the direction, before she started asking questions he didn't care to answer. “But what about you? You never talked much about getting off-planet, though, and here you are.”

“Yeah, well.” Camie ran a finger up her glass, causing a faint squeak of skin against the wet surface. “Stuff – happened, and about two years ago it all came to a head and it was like something just said to me 'Why are you puttin' up with this? In fact, why are you still here? 'Cause this isn't happening like you wanted, and you're gonna end up 'workin' the floor' in a bar, the way you're going.' And then I thought 'well, wouldn't it be better to _own_ the bar? One somewhere far away from this miserable nowhere planet?' And you know what?” She smiled, genuine and proud. “It is better, it really is. Lot of work, but it's mine. Not gonna rise or fall on anybody but me.”

Intersections indeed. Luke smiled back. “Congratulations,” he said, and he meant it. “How about Fixer? Did he come with you?”

Camie's smile grew a hard edge. “Fixer – turned out to be one of the things I was puttin' up with.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” Camie glanced down at her beer. “Turns out he didn't like the setup as well after he found out I do have a brain and I wanted to use it.”

Han shifted in his chair. “Well, I don't know him, obviously,” he drawled, “but I can't imagine how anybody'd miss that; y'know, that you've got a brain.”

Luke blinked, because what the hell? It was the first thing that Han had contributed to the conversation beyond the “hello” pleasantries, and it had “challenge” written all over it.

Camie turned her head. And Luke actually saw, to his amusement, the moment when she turned on the heat, that confident sexuality that'd had everybody in their limited circle panting after her, including Luke himself. “So, you're a friend of Luke's? Another flyboy?”

Han's lazy smile had an edge, too, complete with teeth. “I'm the one who got him off-planet.”

 

*

 

Luke didn't try to corral his smile on the walk back to the _Falcon_. And maybe it was unkind of him – no, it was definitely unkind of him – but Camie's disquiet when she'd been unable to lure Han toward her bed gave Luke a touch of satisfaction, because she'd never had trouble getting anyone she'd chosen to favor, back in the day.

Anyone and everyone, in fact, himself included, Luke acknowledged wryly. Well, he'd been a teen with hormones in hyperdrive, after all – wasn't like he'd been going to turn down a chance at sex with an actual girl, not a boy or his own hand. And Camie had liked to – teach, one could say.

Well, she'd get another chance in the morning, when they met her for a meal before her cantina opened to the public. She'd offered to make them breakfast before they lifted off-planet and judging from the quality of the dinner, Luke had no qualms about accepting, although Han had seemed a little less than enthusiastic.

Luke squinted up at the night sky, catching Aruoa's two moons just beginning to fade from sight, like shadows from the double suns of his younger self. Had life on Tatooine really only been a few years ago, when it felt like half a lifetime?

Had it truly only been a year and some months since Endor? And less than that since Han had found him on that otherwise disgustingly dull, gray morning and told him, in that inimitable Solo fashion, that he'd finally pulled his head out of his ass where Leia was concerned and _Can we? Is there any chance? Tell me there's still a chance, that we can – I mean that you and me could –_

 _Take up where we left? What we left, on Hoth?_ Luke had said, calmly enough he'd thought, like he hadn't missed it at all.

 _Not that_ , Han had said and the protective ice around Luke's heart had stayed frozen. _What we should have now, where we could have been if I hadn't been an idiot. This._ And he'd cupped his big, warm hands around Luke's face – hesitantly, like there’d been some real possibility that Luke would not let him – and leaned in and kissed him.

And Han was right, Luke had realized some dazed moments later, as the ice had begun to crack and fall away – this really wasn't like before. This was new.

New growth, Luke mused now, a fresh sprout from old stock, roots tried and tested. A shelter to weather the storm.

And speaking of storms, there seemed to be one brewing now on his personal horizon, for some reason. Han's temper was frequently quick-flash but it rarely lasted long; usually the best thing to do was put out the lightning rod and brave the tempest. “You're quiet tonight.”

“Pretty clear my input wasn't needed,” Han said shortly.

Oh, indeed, stormfront. A bit like a pressure wave, and it wasn't obvious what was behind it. Should he wait for the privacy of the _Falcon_ , then? Because something was off, Luke just didn't know what.

“It's always needed,” Luke said, keeping his tone mild. “But it was better that Camie didn't hear too much.”

“Not trustworthy, your 'old friend?'”

The last two words had quotes around them that Luke could practically see, and Luke raised his eyebrows. Han wasn't looking at him, just walking straight on in a line for the ship. “That's not how I'd put it,” Luke said carefully.

“No? How would you put it?”

Luke narrowed his eyes at the distinctly clipped tone. “She always liked having a little 'something' on people, for leverage. Or insurance. You know how that works,” he added, poking a little.

“Ah, but you had such a _nicer_ class of friends, there on your little out of the way planet.”

O-kaaay. Whatever had brewed this storm, Luke himself had been part of the mix, he _felt_ that. Question was – what? “Something bothering you?”

“No. 'Course not.” Han's pace quickened, the docking bay where they'd berthed the _Falcon_ just around the corner now. “Nothing's wrong.”

“Han.”

“Nothing's. Wrong.”

Luke slowed, letting Han get ahead of him, reach the _Falcon_ first and lower the ramp. This was _definitely_ a tangle best tackled in private.

He watched his lover stalk up into the ship, boot-heels sounding a flat slap on the metal, before he followed, trying to parse out what was happening. Han's body language was all bristle, but his emotions – his emotions were –

Wounded? But that made no sense.

Luke stopped just inside the ship's main corridor and tapped the sequence to close up behind himself and lock up for the night, and watched as the bulkhead door curved down. All curves, the _Falcon_ was, her few straight lines seemingly there to make the rest of her shape more dramatic, inside as much as out. And modifications everywhere, tricks and slips and that bit of something different literally spilling out of her walls in places.

She could be a tricksy, temperamental lady, the _Millennium_ _Falcon_ – much like her owner, master, and pilot. Oh, Han would tell you he was straightforward if you gave him a chance, but he was anything but. Layer upon layer, with all the mods and dents and scars the years had inflicted, some of them visible, most of them not. Much like the _Falcon_. But she performed her best with Han at the controls, much like a lover for whom she'd give her all.

Because that's what she was. Lover. Maybe not Han's first, but the one he'd stayed with the longest. The one he'd never give up or give up on and why was Luke thinking like this? Now?

Luke shook his head, hard.

Time to get to the bottom of things.

The clack of a glass and the subtle smell of brandale greeted Luke as he stepped into the lounge. “Nightcap?”

“Help yourself,” Han said shortly, flipping a hand at the bottle still on the tech station ledge. He turned toward the far corridor, the one that led to the cabins. “I'm turning in.”

Taken aback yet again, Luke stared after him.

All right, that was absolutely enough.

“Han,” he said, a minute later, standing in the doorway of the cabin. Their cabin.

“What?”

“There _is_ something wrong and I'd like to – ”

“There is nothing _wrong_ , would you stop kriffin' _sayin_ ' that!” Han tossed his vest at the chair where most of his clothes usually wound up.

“As soon as you stand still and start talking to me, sure.” Luke planted himself in Han's path, forcing the other man to either stop or run over him because the room just wasn't that big. “Han.”

Han's emotions were practically a third being in the room with them, a heated prickly snarl shoving in on Luke's lungs that he nonetheless still couldn't get any kind of read on.

Hazel eyes, gone very dark, slanted down at him. “Look, kid. I'm tired. I'm gonna lay down. There was no reason for you to have left when I did. If you wanna talk, go on back and see your 'old friend,' I'm sure she'll be happy to oblige.”

What?

Luke stared at him, mouth falling open. Sweet gods of space, was _that_ it? Why Luke had thought about the ship like he had? Was _that_ what this was about? “Wait a minute. Are you – ? You're _jealous_.”

“I am not,” Han growled, turning away to sit down on the bunk's familiar red and gray coverlet and deal with his boots.

“You _are_.” Finally things were making sense. No kind of reasonable sense, but sense.

“I am _not_ ,” Han repeated. “Nuthin' to be jealous of.”

He was right, there wasn't – but the tangled feelings pouring off of him said that emotion was nonetheless currently winning out over logic.

Luke snapped his mouth shut and moved to hunker down in front of Han, hands going to still Han's motions to pull off the second boot. “Han. Han, look at me. Please.”

Han huffed out a breath, but he did stop, and met Luke's eyes.

Luke gripped his knees. The worn blue fabric of Han's trousers was soft under Luke's fingers, and smelled like Han and more faintly of beer and _tlaot_ smoke from the cantina. “There is nothing – and there will be nothing – going on there, I promise you.”

Their gazes locked for a minute, then Han heaved out a sigh and looked down. The oppressive atmosphere began to shred and dissipate, and Luke's breathing began to feel easier as well.

After another minute, Han moved, resting his own hands on top of Luke's. “I know that,” he said quietly.

Luke just barely held back his own sound of relief. “Then – ?”

“It's just – ” Another blown breath, and the angular shoulders moved in a shrug. “'s stupid.”

 _Well,_ _ **yes**_ _,_ Luke thought but didn't say. He just turned his hands beneath Han's and laced their fingers together. “What?”

Han shook his head, and to Luke's amazement – was that an actual touch of pink on Han's cheekbones?

Luke squeezed the fingers he held. “What?”

Another shrug, then Han's eyes finally came back to his. “She knew you first. Camie. I mean – she was your first, wasn't she?”

Luke bit his lip. There were moments when this man just melted his heart. “Han – ” Luke shook his head. “She was, yes, and I have a warm spot for her – a small one, mind – because of it, but we weren't – ” He smiled, wryly, up into Han's eyes. “It wasn't undying romance, believe me. She was a lot of people's first.”

“Ah.” Something in Han's face relaxed, and his mouth quirked. “City 'speeder? Everybody had a ride?”

“Not quite like that,” Luke said, remembering. “It was – ” Funny how different things could look, when you peered back at them through time. “There never were many human girls, and boys – were what you did until you could convince a girl. On Tatooine, anyway. So Camie was – tryin' us out, I suppose. Show us what 'real' sex was. Being female gave her power, and that was something none of us had, not then.” He paused. “But I think her strategy didn't work out the way she thought it would.”

Han's expression wasn't precisely cynical, just matter-of-fact. “If everybody's got it, it ain't nearly as valuable. So she was hot, until she wasn't.”

“That's – probably an excellent way of putting it,” Luke allowed. “The last time I saw her was the day before my uncle bought Artoo and Threepio. I'd gone in to Tosche Station to tell them about the space battle I'd seen and she was there, hanging out with Fixer, like she usually did in those days. We'd all figured he was the one she'd settled on. After that, she never even crossed my mind again until I went back to Tatooine, what, four years later? To get you.”

Han's mouth thinned a little. They'd never really talked about the carbon freeze, the six months Han had hung imprisoned somewhere between life and death. _“_ _Nothing,”_ Han had said, the only time Luke had asked him about it, in the wake of a nightmare that'd left Han shaky and sweat-drenched. _“That's what it was: nothing. Great huge white wide-awake can't-breathe never-ending_ _ **nothing**_ _.”_ And then he'd rested his head on Luke's shoulder and refused to say any more about it.

Nor would Luke press him about it now. “I was there for quite some time, waiting. Fett would bring you to Jabba, we knew that; it was only a matter of when. And while I spent most of my time training and meditating, building a new 'saber, there were still the mundane things to take care of: food, clothing and so on. And listening for the latest gossip about Jabba. So I did go into town.”

“Town.”

“Anchorhead.”

“Wouldn't call that a 'town,' exactly.”

Luke's mouth quirked. “Mos Eisley, as well.”

“That ain't a town,” Han said with a nicely over-done sneer and scoff. “I'm not sure that's exactly even civilization.”

Luke pulled his fingers free, slid them under Han's legs and pinched him behind the knee. Hard.

The ensuing wrestling match saw them both tumbling into the bunk in a laughing tangle, the contest ending when Luke pinned both Han's hands to the mattress and kissed him into submission. “I think that's cheatin',” Han muttered against Luke's lips.

“Really? That a complaint?”

“Not on your life.” Han kissed him again, tongue-tip a brief tease into Luke's mouth, sharing the tastes of brandale and himself. “Go on, finish your story.”

His story. Right. Because having Han pressed against him had done what it usually did, seduced Luke into nearly losing the thread.

But the little interlude had worked; Han was relaxed now, his body lazy and supple, his earlier tension almost gone. Secure, as he should be. “Where was I, again?” Luke asked, just to see Han's grin.

“Mos Eisley.” Han eased one hand out of Luke's loosened grip and ran it caressingly over his ribs.

“Hmm.” Luke shifted to one side and propped up on his elbow, leaving his other hand to spread flat over Han's chest, steady heartbeat beneath Luke's palm. “Was in and out of most the bars and cantinas, listening.”

“And nobody recognized you? Noticed you?”

“I didn't want them to.”

Han nodded, because he'd seen Luke pull that trick too many times by now to disbelieve it.

“One of those times, I saw Camie again. And her situation wasn't – let's say it wasn't the best. So I got closer, not letting her see me, and – made a suggestion.”

Han's eyebrows rose in question.

“That she wanted to stop, and go home, and rethink what she was doing with her life.”

“You used the Force,” Han said slowly, “to 'suggest' that she change her life. For the better.”

Luke nodded. _And then I wondered for a time if I'd done the right thing_ , he didn't say. But he couldn't have just left her there, she was going to hurt herself. She _had_ hurt herself and she was going to do worse, he'd known that very clearly. And it hadn't been the time for anyone to know Luke's own identity, either. So he'd compromised …

He blinked, and refocused on Han's face. His lover's expression had gone loose and open. “What?”

“You just literally cannot help it, can you?” Han asked, rolling his head slowly against the pillow.

“Help what?”

“Doing good. Tryin' to help people, wherever you go. Just because it's right. If they ask or not.”

Luke opened his mouth and shut it again, nonplussed. “I ...”

“You are the most amazing … An' you don't even get that, do you.” Han curved gentle fingers around Luke's jaw, and there was something wondering and amazed in his eyes, almost shy; something that, like that little smile earlier tonight, Luke would bet serious credits the rest of the galaxy never saw. “Y'know, I am the luckiest son of a dog ever.”

Luke looked his question.

“That you're here with me. That you're _still_ here with me when there's at least a planet's worth of people told you all the old Jedi reasons why you shouldn't be. That you gave me, us, another chance, 'cause honestly? I can't think of a single decent reason why you oughta be here – be in love. With me,” Han finished softly.

“No, there's a _thousand_ reasons, at least!” Luke said, startled. He _knew_ , without doubt, that Han loved him, but Han had never actually said anything like this before. “Han – ”

Long fingers against Luke's lips stopped him. Han shook his head again. “'S not why I said it, don't need the reasons. 'S enough that you do. I just – ” He shrugged one shoulder, and a tinge of color washed up across his cheekbones for the second time that night. “I wanted you to know.”

Nothing else Luke could do with that at this moment except lean down and kiss the man, and kiss him and kiss him and try to tell him that way all the things Luke didn't think he had the words for.

“I love you,” he whispered eventually against Han's mouth, because those words, at least, he did have. “Even though you never have learned to appreciate properly-spiced food.”

Han grinned up at him, eyes crinkling at the edges and mouth curving into that so-familiar crooked smile. “Well, it'd be boring if we were _both_ perfect, right? I'll get you trained eventually, though.”

 

*

*

*

**Author's Note:**

> Some Like It Hot  
> 3.3.17
> 
> Pure fluff and nonsense, originally started to cheer up culturevulture73 ages ago when she was having a day.


End file.
